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If you told his six-year-old self that the first time he entered a classroom would be for the purpose of cleaning it, he wouldn’t have believed it. But it made sense now, seeing that he was no child, soon-to-be nineteen years old and still an illiterate. He didn’t contemplate any of this as he worked. The oppressive afternoon heat made everything harder and slower, including thought.
It was almost eight and everybody else had already gone home. Dinner was not a long way.
“Do you mind if I take my shirt off for a moment?” he finally said, “I can’t take it anymore,”
“Go ahead,” Eak answered from the other side of the room, absent-mindedly, but something deep inside his skull was throbbing like a drumbeat. He had been enduring it all morning, all day, all week, and he was being quite successful at it; but even he had his limits. It was meant to happen then, on a scorching summer afternoon, only made possible by the sweltering atmosphere of a small classroom like this one. He had foreseen it when they chose it, when he offered to help; he knew all along, so when he turned to face Spring after finishing sweeping the floor he was not expecting to feel anything else. Still his hands were trembling, palms sweating, seizing the broom like he was going to break it.
Spring had strange-looking bruises running up his torso – long-term scars of hunger. He felt happy, angry, shy and nervous all at once. Pain spread up his throat and his heart ached with awareness. They finished cleaning up and said goodbye.
Nevertheless, Eak was anxious – who knew how long Spring would keep this job? Had he agreed to it just so he wouldn't feel bad? Was Eak failing to keep him entertained? These questions flashed through his mind as he stared at the now-clothed back of Spring, who was already walking in the opposite direction, ready to disappear, and before he could think about it, he was whistling to get his attention. It was now or never.
“Do you want to eat at my place?”
-
So he had done well in inviting him to his room. That was reassuring. He had not anticipated feeling so horribly nervous, so exalted in his emotions, even though he had learnt that very afternoon that the influence the taller boy had on him was nothing short of severe.
Yes, Spring stood quite tall. Or maybe Eak was too short for an eighteen-year-old (although he would never admit this). His high shadow cast on the walls. Eak stared at it to avoid staring at *him* as he explored his bedroom, touching everything as he went by.
How could an impoverished boy like him reach such height, have such energy, such strength of spirit? He was quite bulky, too. His mind was occupied with thoughts of Spring. He remembered his expression of delight as he served dinner to him a bit earlier – grilled beef steaks from the day before, as he’d eaten in so many opportunities in the past (but he was not alone this time). Spring ate to his heart’s content and seemed exaggeratedly joyous after it. Eak wondered if maybe he would come back for more sometime. He’d certainly like that, he thought. Spring sat down on his bed and looked up at him with a smile so that he would, too.
“You have a nice room,” he was again very energetic and looking ready to clean another ten classrooms in a row. “Do you always do this, inviting guys over? Or am I special?” he asked, teasingly, but there was no malice in his voice.
Still, Eak was caught off-guard, and gave an answer that was too far honest. Again Spring was making him feel stupid, slower.
“Well, It’s been a while since… the, um, last time,” (fuck! He muttered under his breath, and Spring laughed).
“I know. The guy with orange hair.” Eak’s mouth dropped. “Your buddy Owynn told me,” he said before the other boy could even ask.
“...how…, but…” he was frowning now, feeling tense and confused.
If he had any remaining sense of control up to that point, it completely vanished. Ever since he met Spring, he was bound to him; what at first he thought was a typical sense of obligation that one feels when meeting someone very unfortunate, quickly realized was longing, desperation for him. That feeling he was no stranger to: but it was Spring who, without knowing, cast a spell on him, leaving him helpless, motionless. He couldn’t have him – it hurt to know.
…and now it turns out his stupid boss had been spilling the details of his turbulent sentimental life to him.
“Hey, relax,” rushed Spring, seeing that he’d annoyed him with his little remark. “Come on,” and when Eak tried to get up and leave, he didn’t let him. “Don’t be mad. It’s not like I think it’s weird or anything. Even I…” he couldn’t help but smile.
Eak was looking straight at him with piercing yellow eyes. “Ah…, whatever,” and so he gave up, sat back down with his elbows on his knees, ashamed.
What he didn’t know was that his little outburst had made something click in Spring’s brain. He certainly hadn't been aware until then that this was how he saw him. Why else would he act so nervous? Why else would he have tried so hard to get a stranger into a school he had zero chance of getting into anyways? And when he couldn’t do it, he gave him a job, as if he was desperate just to have him around somehow. Spring had felt him staring at him before, aching, intensely and persistently as if he thought of him as something unattainable, which filled him with affection. Suddenly he wanted him, too.
“Sorry, sorry” he said, raising a disarming hand to stroke his hair and put him at ease.
Some moments passed by like that.
“I’m really thankful for the job opportunity, by the way. Even if I can’t study just yet, it will help me be closer to my sister…”
“You don’t have to thank me. You don’t owe me anything so don’t act like it,”
“...and you” he concluded. Eak opened his eyes wide. “What? Did I misread the situation again?” he said with a grin, “I don’t think so,”
Yes, it had been all right to invite him over. Something that could only be described as warmth was taking over Eak now, so very different from the violent pounding in his head he previously suffered every time he locked eyes with the blonde, and at the same time so similar. He felt wanted, looked at, and it was not a feeling of emasculation but of pure joy. And here, in the intimacy of his room, it was not just the first time in a while, but in a lifetime, that he could be like this with someone.
“Shall I stay the night?”
“Please, do”